


The Best Intentions

by cariandra



Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: Bullying, Children, F/M, Incest, but seriously incestual children, incestual children, possibly disturbing, so yeah....
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 01:22:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4244184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cariandra/pseuds/cariandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Children were never her intention.  He was the child of her genetic predecessor (something she furiously tried to ignore).  But if they were going to have them she was going to do it right.  So why were they pressed against a pillar doing very unsibling-like things to each other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Intentions

**Author's Note:**

> This was previously posted a few months ago and then taken down to do a significant edit on the middle section and some tweaking to the end. For those who read it before thank you for being here again! For newcomers welcome to my weird headspace. :)
> 
> Possible trigger warnings for the usual: Incest (but not incest, but really incest at the same time?), fucked-up familial relations, a Jupiter who is seriously starting to warp her perceptions of life-values, and the aforementioned incestual children.

How had it happened? 

Her plan hadn’t been intentional.  At first.  Making sure they knew she was _their_ mother, not Balem’s.  She’d been so careful to ensure sure the four of them saw each other as a family, a _real_ family.  There would never be thoughts of that sort of parental relationship.  They would be siblings, and she their mother.  There would be memories of childhood, of laughter, playing and growing together.  They would not look to the other and see a contemptuous child their parents had created long after they were grown. 

But that had not been the laughter one gave a sibling.  Not the platonic touch of a hand on her hip, hers in his hair.  The kiss was not one between siblings.  Jupiter had been so careful. 

_So how had it happened?_

 

 

Adrastea had come easily.  The product of a witnessed look of wishful longing tainted with sadness.  Balem’s softly burning anger, _Why am I never enough_ , slowly faded into a recognition of what Jupiter needed to exist in his universe.  A recognition of what she had been pushing down, deep into herself, to spare him the feeling of rejection that rooted many of his emotions towards his siblings.  It had taken him centuries to stop seeing Jupiter as Seraphi, to not lay every look, every feeling, onto a face of 93 millennia.  It was a millennium later before Jupiter believed it.

Seraphi had ruled Balem completely, ruined him for anyone else.  So who better to show him something new?  Show him something that was bright, soft, and untainted by undercutting sharp edges than the woman who wore her face? 

When Caine, her family, and Stinger were gone, who was left to understand?  Earth was long changed.  Jupiter’s formation became a relic of its past ages, part of a history that was scarcely remembered once the Universe was opened to it.  Balem had understood, had seen it happen more times than he could remember.  That loneliness, the long years, how the younger burned so bright but could never understand the depth of what she, they, had lived.  It had taken his Seraphi, but not Jupiter.  Never her. 

Synthetic Regenex meant so many more lived the long lives of entitled.  But they could never understand what it took to come about.  Never know what Jupiter had done to make it a reality.  Balem slipped into the palm of her hand, and before Jupiter realized how long they had been together he saw her gaze at the group of young splices with their mothers.

“It will be beautiful,” his hoarse whisper floated to her ear.

“What will?”

“The child,” Jupiter raised an eyebrow, fighting the urge to spin and look at him.

“Oh?  And how would that work?” her wry smile covered the tightness in her chest his words induced.  There could never be children.  Genetics could be fixed and entitled would love whom they chose, but children?  Her tersie origins were a whispered topic of discussions at gatherings.  They knew her lingering discomforts with so many traditions.   Would she dare join the procession of entitled who chose their own over the universe?

Balem’s fingers slipped up the hollow of Jupiter’s spine, catching on the glittering stones, a rare public touch during a rare public appearance.  “They will be perfect, and strong, and we will teach them why the universe still bows to the name Abrasax.”

The tightness migrated to a wetness in her eyes as Jupiter chuckled to hide the hiccup in her breath.  “Been thinking about this awhile?”

“Recently,” Balem settled his hand more firmly against the bare skin of her back.  With him recently could mean last week or a century ago.  Jupiter drew several deep breaths into her lungs before pausing, narrowed eyes finally looking at him.

“Wait, _they?_ ”

 

 

“The new synthesizers have raised production at the Kepler and Spica refineries, and oompth!” a small body pounced onto Chicanery’s leg.  Adrastea’s tinkling laugh broke into the professional, and frankly boring, discussion.  Chicanery’s brow tried to furrow in annoyance only to fall victim to Adrastea’s wide smile and laughing hazel eyes.

Jupiter dumped her sheave on the side table as she and Kiza watched Chicanery help Adrastea climb onto the seat next to him.  Adrastea wasted no time pointing at his sheave and letting her three year old mind go.

“What are you talking about?”

“That table,” Chicanery scrolled to the area they had been discussing.

“Oh….what’s on it?”

“Population indexes from Kepler and Spica.”

“What are those?”

"Planets in the Milky Way system."

"Why are looking at them?"

“So we know when to do our next genetic replenishment.”

“Why?” Chicanery’s eyebrow began to tick slightly.

“Because genetic material can only be re-used so many times to make synthetic Regenex.”

“Why?”

Jupiter rested a hand on her rounded belly and wondered if her son would have Adrastea’s inquisitiveness.  Aleksa had always said that Jupiter couldn’t find a book beyond her mind as a child.  The quickfire questions Adrastea delighted in throwing out made Jupiter wonder how much of Balem she’d actually gotten.  That worry was a little misplaced.  Balem loved learning, loved information and seeing the stars.  His Regenex bath made a breathtaking sightseeing gallery (and served other purposes).  So much was rarely new to him.  His methods of learning, however, were slightly different than hers.  For someone so reserved he had been unexpectedly touch-starved.

_Maksim had better like to read, Chicanery can’t take two of them._   Jupiter caught Kiza’s smile in the corner of her eye and chose to take pity on the poor splice.

“Adrastea,” the endless questioning stopped as her head swiveled to look at her mother, “Are you excited that Kalique is visiting this week?” Adrastea bounced excitedly on the seat next to Chicanery.

“Yes!  Three days!” she held out three fingers for emphasis.

“How are the flowers she gave you?” Jupiter asked, knowing full well Adrastea hadn’t checked on them in days.  She feared for any creature put in daughter’s her care.  It was a good thing Jupiter had been watering them for her.  Adrastea’s eyes widened and she dashed from the room, her nanny following on swift feet.  The chair groaned as Chicanery leaned back and rubbed his face to catch his bearings.

“When are you going to announce Maksim?” Kiza asked.  Jupiter huffed and slipped swollen feet out of her flats.

“When I damn well please,” came her irritated answer.  Chicanery let out a small squeak at the retort.

“They won’t be as surprised at your reproduction method this time.  You shouldn’t have to face as much scrutiny,” he pulled his hand from his eyes and straightened.

“Not if Titus’s reaction is anything to go by,” Kiza all but growled.  Maksim’s accidental conception (Blamed entirely on that party Titus had hosted.  What had possessed them to drink his liquor?) had shed light on a serious misunderstanding between Jupiter and Balem.  Specifically on the timing of their children.  Balem had thought one child at a time, with plenty of space in between for a break, was the way to grow their family.  Jupiter had not.  That she insisted on carrying their children naturally only added to his exasperation.

Titus’s exclamation of, “Someone knows how to pull a Seraphi!” hadn’t helped.

Jupiter’s absolute refusal to end the pregnancy had spawned their worst fight in over seven centuries.

For those three days the servants refused to enter the private wing.  Kiza simply rolled her eyes, opened the door, and slid a food tray into the sitting room, shouting out a few business updates depending on the current shouting state.

Three days of yelling, crying, and all around regrettable statements culminated in Jupiter finally breaking one of her and Balem’s unspoken rules: she would never use his childhood against him.  Those secrets, poured from his mouth at his most vulnerable (and very, very drunk), had been sealed in a special place where her anger festered against the woman whose face she had been born with.  To have him support this child, though?  She would do anything.

“Do you remember,” Jupiter’s voice, hoarse from shouting, scratched across the room, “telling me how lonely you were as a child?”  His head angled towards her, away from the nebula outside the window.  Jupiter swallowed past the raw ache in her throat and ignored the tears.

“You said there were no other children, no laughter.  Just nannies, and lessons, and waiting for one more visit from Seraphi to show her you were everything she’d designed.”  His hand was twisting the fabric of his cloak, running the crystals through his fingers, oh so slowly. 

_He’s listening, he’s finally listening_. 

“I don’t want that for Adrastea.  I want her to be able to see her brother and think of somewhere safe and happy,” Aleksa reading her bedtime stories, teaching her how to make cookies filled Jupiter’s mind, “She shouldn’t only have the company of her nannies as friends, or be an adult and wonder why we suddenly want a new child, wonder why she wasn’t enough,” that one would dig deep, but it was necessary.  “There should be more than her mother, or father, to help her learn about the universe.  She deserves to have someone to be there that understands what it’s like to be in our crazy business, who grew up with it too, who saw the same things she did.  Even if we have to travel.  Someone her own age.  So she’s never alone.”

The soft memories of her home in Chicago, now long gone, filled Jupiter with a longing for the laughter of children, the sounds of small feet running down the hall, petty arguments echoing through doorways.  Everything that had passed from her life, something Balem had never had.  She wanted to show him, wanted him to understand, why her home had meant so much to her.  Why she had stayed on Earth for so long.

Balem looked back out the window, the burning nebula reaching toward the ship with spiderlike tendrils.  The cloak slipped from his fingers to drape on the floor.

“Please,” she whispered, voice softly cracking.

Balem turned and walked to her.  His hand cupped her cheek and traveled over her shoulder, down the dip of her waist, and rested on the ever so slight curve of her belly.  Endless moments passed while Jupiter waited for his decision.  His eyes slowly closed and he rested his forehead against hers, his breath puffing against her lips.

“We are not naming him Maksim.”  Jupiter smiled.

 

Sheaves shook on the tables as the deep thunder rumbled violently, traveling through Jupiter’s body as she brushed the hair off Adrastea’s forehead.  The two children curled against each other as they slept between their parents.  Jupiter closed her eyes and rested a hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

“Why do you insist we allow these invasions into our bedroom?” a pouty whisper came from across the bed.

“Why do you insist that comforting our children is an invasion?” Jupiter adjusted her head to look at Balem, the lightning illuminating his annoyed expression in quick flashes.  How many times had they had this conversation?  Children needed their parents, wanted them when they were frightened.  Balem’s face when Jupiter had insisted that they not be away from them for more than a week at a time had been both comical and slightly alarming.

“They need to learn to ignore these distractions.”

“They need to know that their parents will protect them, Balem.”

“In 20 years they will not have us at all times.”  Her fingers on Adrastea’s arm tightened.  Adrastea wiggled away from the touch and buried her face further into Jupiter’s pillow. 

Even after four millennia it was still so easy for Jupiter to remember her childhood.  Her family hadn’t had much, but the warm glow of love and safety had never faded in Jupiter’s mind.  Balem’s childhood had slipped through the fingers of time, an unnecessary commodity when one was designed to run a dynasty.

“They have us right now.  I want it to count.”  His unblinking stare, no longer unnerving after so long, met hers over their children.  Balem’s apathy over his childhood, or lack of one, was something Jupiter found to be a consistent attitude among entitled.  She sometimes wondered if it had originated as a defense mechanism to help them harvest their planets.  Children were so much like tersies after all.  Young, innocent, uncontrolled.  If Jupiter wanted her children to support what she was working for, if she wanted Balem to see why it was important, she needed to work from the bottom up.  Besides, everyone needed to remember when it was okay to run around in their socks to slide down the hallways.

“We choose so much in our lives,” the words burst out, whispered, punctuated by more bright flashes and rumbling thunder, “everything except our families.  I want them to always have something to go back to… to make them feel loved.  In 20 years I, we, can’t guarantee that anymore.” 

His lips parted, unsure how to respond.  Life was measured in centuries and millennia, 20 years was of fleeting consequence.  Yet Jupiter had held on to that quarter of a decade longer than he had held on to the memory of Seraphi after her recurrence.  It never ceased to baffle him. 

There was something in Jupiter though, a softness that Seraphi had never understood.  Something that Balem was slowly realizing she had begun to gain before her…death.  Whatever it was made Jupiter something more substantial than Seraphi had ever been.  He wanted it in his children.

Another rumble vibrated through the room.  As Maksim curled tighter into himself Balem slowly reached out and wrapped an arm around his son’s waist.  The toddler quieted, his hand wrapping around Balem’s fingers.

 

 

The emergency FTL came through in the middle of the night, interrupting Jupiter’s surprisingly restful sleep.  Adrastea and Maksim were only going to be gone for two nights, on a trip with the few other existing entitled children to a defunct refinery in a nearby system.  Only two nights, and Farina, their main tutor, would be with them the whole time.

The sheave blasted a shrieking emergency signal through the bedroom.  Balem nearly fell out of the bed grabbing it from his side table.  Jupiter was still tying her robe shut when he accepted the communication with no care for the sheet barely covering his modesty.  Farina’s image pixelated into focus at the end of the bed.

“Your majesty’s,” Balem silenced her with a sharp wave of his hand.

“What happened?”  They’d been very clear with the emergency contact.  Only if something truly serious occurred.  Had one of them gotten sick?

“There’s been an incident.”

“Obviously,” Farina’s skin flushed a deep red, her chromatophores betraying her troubled emotions, at Jupiter’s snap.

“Several of the children snuck out of their rooms earlier tonight,” Farina’s webbed fingers curled around themselves nervously, “I haven’t been able to ascertain where Adrastea and Maksim were told they would be going.  During the excursion there was an incident.  Adrastea and Maksim are mostly uninjured,” Farina quickly placated Balem’s erupting shout, “but one child is being taken to Orous for medical attention.  Many of the children are claiming that Maksim attacked them.” 

“We’ll be there within the hour,” Balem grabbed his discarded clothing from the floor.  Jupiter decided a quip about modesty around the servants probably wasn't appropriate, given the current circumstances.  How could she even think about something that trivial?

“There is no need, we will be at the alcazar in less than 30 minutes.  The children are extremely distressed.  I felt it was best to bring them home before the other parent’s arrived.”  Through her growing haze of horror Jupiter finally took note of Farina’s panicked expression. 

_She should be panicking, this trip was her idea._   It would be good for them to interact with other children without their parents present.  Farina had been so sure that everything would go smoothly.  All of the children had met, were all from families that interacted semi-regularly.  The relationships that would last centuries began early.  Balem had agreed.  Jupiter shelved her worry at letting her children travel without their parents for the first time and helped pack their clothes, all black for Adrastea, entirely too much gold in Maksim’s, copious amounts of glitter all around, and kissed them goodbye the day before.

Though it was Balem who carried the emergency sheave with him all day…

“We’ll meet you at the dock,” Balem cut the transmission while Jupiter summoned a sim to wake Kiza and Chicanery.  Someone needed to be in a proper mental state to negotiate with the Aegis.

Two half asleep splices, one conspicuously wearing the other’s shirt, and two nearly panicking parents waited at the space dock for the ship bearing their children and an octopus splice with an uncertain future.  Jupiter took deep breaths to press down the worried nausea fighting its way up her throat.

“Do you know who was involved?” Chicanery never took his eyes away from his glowing sheave as he fired off his questions.

“No,” Balem’s voice was reaching the quiet level that began to concern Jupiter.

“Where were the children going?” Kiza edged away from Chicanery as Balem suddenly stilled.

“WE DON’T KNOW!” Chicanery jumped, scowled at Balem, then frowned at something on his sheave.  Jupiter spotted a growing dot in the sky, her feet carrying her to edge of the dock.  Her hastily thrown on clothes stuck to her skin in the humidity of the warm night.  Everything had been so beautiful, the alcazar's gardens in full bloom, the windows of every greenhouse thrown open to allow the bursting foliage room to breathe.  The scent of damp earth and green, living things filled Jupiter's nose.  It all turned to dust as she focused on that dot.

“We've received over 20 FTL’s in the 15 minutes,” Chicanery’s fingers flew over the screen.  Kiza groaned and rubbed her shoulder.

“How many codes?” Jupiter tuned out their discussion and focused on the dot that was quickly edging closer.

“Those children are lying,” Balem hissed.  Jupiter nodded her agreement, not that it could be seen from where she stood.  Adrastea and Maksim had tempers, it was a family fact, but Jupiter had worked extensively with both of them.  Special tutors, breathing exercises, meditation.  She’d even taught them yoga.  Balem had been surprisingly good at it once he joined the ‘No Shouting’ club.  The no shouting part was still a work in progress…  But even with his anger management failings Balem’s faith in their children was well founded.  They were impulsive but rarely violent.  Jupiter had made sure of that.

Her chest tightened when the dot focused into a small silver shuttle, the flowing symbol definitely not Abrasax, and smoothly docked in front of the small party. Farina ushered the two battered children to the landing pad and waved at the shuttle window.  It rose and rapidly left the atmosphere, gone before its presence could be noted by the surrounding city.  Jupiter bent down to check Adrastea’s purpling cheek, only half listening to the conversation around her.

“The Xias family helped me get them out of the infirmary before any formal charges could be filed,” Jupiter mentally commended Farina for her quick thinking.  It was doubtful they would have been the first guardians, or authorities, to arrive.

“Terraformers?” a rare moment of surprise slipped into Balem’s voice, interrupting his urge to immediately interrogate their employee.  Jupiter moved away from Adrastea, the only large injury on her daughter appeared to be the black eye that was obscuring her freckles.  Maksim looked much worse.

“Yes.  Their daughter is one of the few children not claiming Maksim instigated the altercation.  Her version is much different from the Adelmar’s.”

“The child being taken to Orous?” Kiza took a quick look up from her sheave to confim Farina’s nod. 

“Yes, Varinia Adelmar.  Her injuries were…severe.  I’ve been assured that she will be healed by the end of the week with no lasting damage,” Farina was still fidgeting, pulling at her nightclothes and twisting her hands around one another, but the thinly veiled panic present during the emergency FTL was gone, or very well hidden.  Her skin had returned to its normal shade of slightly too pink patterned with blue spots.

“We need to speak with the Xias’s daughter immediately,” Jupiter dropped Maksim’s hand.  She’d expected the bleeding knuckles.  The quickly purpling bruises on his wrists and marks up his arms had temporarily whited out her vision.  Those weren’t from a fight.  Someone, many someone’s, had held him in one position for a specific purpose.  Jupiter would bet sound credits the bruises continued under his clothes.

“I’ve already sent their head of operations a direct communication.”  Chicanery was so getting a raise after this.

Jupiter looked over Adrastea and Maksim.  Scared postures, bruised faces, but it was the almost vacant look in their eyes that terrified her the most.  Those weren’t the faces of two children who had lost a fight.  It was resignation.  But not to their punishments.  Children weren’t qualified for full code violation reprimands.  This was something else.  And the landing pad was not the place to find out.

“Let’s go to the kitchen and clean you two up.”

The kitchen (a room Balem had become slightly more acquainted with in the last decade.  He at least knew where it was now) hummed quietly to life as Jupiter drenched a towel in cold water.  Kiza and Farina sat the children at the servant’s table.  Kiza picked up another towel and gently cleaned Maksim’s tear stained face.

Jupiter pressed the cold towel to Adrastea’s bruising eye, “Shh, I know it stings,” positioning Adrastea’s hand to hold it in place.  Balem hovered near the doorway, face reddening the longer Jupiter took.  It was only a matter of time before he burst into an explosion of completely unhelpful shouting.  She checked to make sure that Kiza had finished wiping the blood from Maksim’s knuckles before stepping back.

“I want you two to stay in the kitchen.  Your father and I need to talk to Farina.”  Adrastea surged forward and grabbed her mother’s arm.

“It wasn’t Maksim’s fault!  I made him come!  Told him he was being a stupid baby and that I would tell them all why he wasn’t with us.”  More tears slipped down her face, a possible product of her hysteria or the rapidly swelling bruise over her eye.  Jupiter couldn’t be sure.

“I’m going to be very clear,” Jupiter was proud of the calm but stern tone her voice took, “You are both in trouble for sneaking out.  What will determine the severity of your punishment is what happened after.  Do you understand?”  They both nodded.

“Okay.  Stay in your seats.  We’ll be back in a few minutes.”  In the hallway, Farina wisely began explaining before Balem had a chance to shout.

“When I saw their injuries I knew I needed to get them home immediately.  The other guardians were attempting to heal the children before the Aegis could arrive.  It was obvious why,” most of the wounds, Maksim’s in particular, were clearly defensive.  “The area it happened in has very poor surveillance and the guard that found them didn’t see enough to be of any use.”

“Varinia and the older children arranged it.  The ones Adrastea doesn’t know as well.  They were found in a section of the refinery used for disposal of leftover materials,” Jupiter shivered.  It was not ‘materials’ that were leftover, “The children have been the victim of a very nasty prank.  Fortunately, the others didn’t count on them fighting back,” pride edged Farina’s voice at the end.

“Their families should focus more on history,” Balem looked back towards the soft light coming through the kitchen door, the pride Farina felt echoed in his expression.

“Why would the Xias girl be the only one not following the pack?”  If Jupiter had a clear understanding of history Seraphi was widely held responsible for their downfall 65 millennia ago.  All the family had been left with was a large collection of rocky planets barelyl suitable for mining, let alone habitation.  The recent boom in terraforming had only just restored them to their former strength. 

“Perhaps not all of them were in on the prank,” Kiza this time, softly contemplating a message on her sheave.  She turned it towards the group, “I heard from the Xias’ Operations Master.  Nayan Xias is claiming they were sneaking out to see the restricted poisonous section of the upper level gardens.  Varinia took them to the lower levels instead.”

The anger simmering under the surface of Jupiter’s expression heated her face.  It was the perfect ruse.  Adrastea loved botany.  So much that she’d begged her parents to take the family to stay with Kalique during Cerise's bloom season the year before.  It would have been easy to rope Adrastea into breaking the rules with such a tempting treat.  The Adelmar’s had owned that refinery before the planet it was meant to harvest had gone nuclear, ruining any future profit for the next several million years.  The system had been sold for scrap under a cloud of embarrassment and was currently used for educational purposes.  Varinia would have easily been able to access the schematics through the family archives.  Been able to find the darkest, most disgusting place in the whole refinery.  The smell probably lingered even after 1,000 years.

“We need to find out what happened before someone files a tax grievance,” Chicanery muttered between sending answers to the messages that had poured in.  Farina looked to Jupiter.

“The children would not tell me what happened in that place.  But I thought they would trust their parents,” she implored.  All eyes went to her.  The panicked nausea returned, along with a tight pulling sensation in Jupiter’s chest.  She could not afford to panic, to let the pressure get to her.  Balem was absolutely unreadable, that frightening stillness he only gained when absolutely furious consuming him. 

The stillness was his only defense when the heated, boiling anger always coiled inside broke free of its carefully constructed safeguards.  Save him for the Adelmar’s and their child.  They would be the new Xias, the new family whispered about when her family walked by.  They would know why the Abrasax family had been the ruling dynasty for over 30 million years.

But this, speaking to her children, working them through whatever terrible thing had happened in the pit of that refinery, this was her job.  Balem would use his rage to protect the family in the only way he knew how.  Jupiter would use her instincts to protect the dignity of her children and give Balem the ammunition he needed.  Knowing better than to touch, or speak, to him in his state Jupiter gave Balem a tight nod and went into the kitchen.

Adrastea had moved her chair closer to Maksim and was wrapping her cold towel around his bruises.  Jupiter caught a whispered, “I’m so sorry,” before they caught sight of their mother.  Adrastea snatched her fingers away and stiffly folded them in her lap.  Maksim continued to stare at the table.  Water from the towel puddled on the stone surface.

What was she supposed to say?  Demanding they tell her what Varinia had done wouldn’t get anywhere.  Adrastea would clam up like the teenager she was and Maksim would follow her example.  For a moment Jupiter cursed her choice to have her children so close together.  They relied too much on each other instead of listening to her. 

_But isn’t that what you wanted?_   _You know why you_ really _wanted that._

Adrastea was the key.  If Jupiter could get her to open up Maksim would curl into Jupiter like the little boy he liked to pretend he wasn’t.  And she knew exactly how to do that.  The preserver opened and the smell of freshly baked cookies, the ones Jupiter had made to give them when they came home the next day, filled the kitchen.

Two glasses of milk, both laced with her Regenex for their injuries, accompanied the cookies on a gold platter to the table.  Jupiter placed the cookies in front of the children and pulled a chair up next to Maksim.  The fury that had been gently simmering under the surface flared back to life when she saw under the towel.  The bruises, barely there when he’d gotten off the shuttle, were quickly taking the shape of fingers.  Jupiter couldn’t understand why they suddenly shrank back into their seats until she felt the naked anger on her face.  This was going to be delicate work.  One wrong word and even cookies wouldn’t ease their words.

“I am absolutely furious, but not at you,” Jupiter reached for a cookie and gently picked at the chocolate, “Whatever Varinia and those other children did was not your fault, and your father and I are not going to punish either of you for anything that happened after you snuck out,” she hadn’t discussed that particular point with Balem yet but Jupiter was pretty confident he would agree with her there, “We know whatever happened was awful, but your father cannot punish them unless you tell me what happened.”

Adrastea reached for Maksim’s wrist to rewrap the towel around it.  His hand tangled with her fingers and wouldn’t let go.  Jupiter waited as after a minute, then two, Maksim finally gave his sister a sharp nod.  Her fingers tightened on his before she began to stumble through the story.

“Maksim didn’t want to go, but Varinia said we were only going to the gardens, that she knew a way to get there without being seen, since her family used to the own the refinery.  But she didn’t-  I didn’t realize she was taking us the wrong way until it the lights started going out,” unused sector, not as much power allocated to that area, “Maksim said something but the boys told him to stop being stupid-  I was too worried to make them stop.”

“She took us to a restricted zone,” Maksim’s voice, barely a whisper, joined the story, “and locked us out of the system.  The lift wouldn’t start again.”

“I was so scared, Mommy,” Jupiter’s heart squeezed, Adrastea had stopped calling her that over a year ago, “They started pushing us down the hallway, and Nayan-  she was trying make them stop but Varinia shoved her back behind them, and…” hiccupping tears interrupted Adrastea’s voice.  Jupiter pulled Adrastea into her arms, squishing Maksim between them.  The wetness on Jupiter’s robe betrayed Maksim’s feelings. 

“What did they do?” the coaxing words helped slow their tears and bring them back to the kitchen.  Adrastea pulled away while Maksim allowed himself to be pulled into Jupiter’s lap.  Jupiter slipped a glass of milk into Maksim’s hand and helped him drink while Adrastea kept talking.

“We stopped on this-  this platform.  Varinia told us to look down, but we didn’t know what it was and she-  she laughed, and said we wouldn’t because our parents were-” a pause, considering what words to use, “She said you were weak, and you wouldn’t teach us because-” no tears stopped her this time.  The hesitation on her face looked more fearful than anything.

“They said really bad things,” Maksim’s voice vibrated in her chest.  His milk was almost gone.

“What did they say?” he shook his head and gripped his mother’s arm.

“They used bad words.”  _I bet they did._

“I told you I wouldn’t get mad about anything that happened down there.  I promise you won’t get in trouble if you tell me, okay?” Jupiter forced Maksim to meet her eyes and hoped her imploring look was enough to break his silence.

“Varinia said we were where entitled threw out the tersies-  after they were done harvesting them-  that you should have been thrown out when Balem found you,” Adrastea didn’t need Maksim’s coaxing, the words spit from her mouth like poison, more uninhibited tears falling, “She said your law to not harvest tersies was going to fail, and that when it did they would finally throw you out with the trash too.”

“Maksim tried to run away but one of the older boys grabbed him and held him down and Varinia hit me when I tried to make him stop.  Maksim was yelling at her and they kept hitting him because he wouldn’t stop and she just- she kept saying terrible things about you and Dad.  That he didn’t love you, that he only kept you because you looked like his mother.  No one understood why he would want more siblings, more people to steal his _precious_ planets.  He’d only done it because the only person who would love him was his mother.  And she kept making us look down there, at those terrible machines, and I was crying, and so angry, and then she just… stopped.”  Scuffling noises from the hallway sounded in the sudden silence.  Chicanery and Kiza probably keeping Balem from sending out premature assassination orders.

“Why did she stop?” dread creeped into Jupiter’s voice.  Varinia’s wounds would have been extremely serious be sent to Orous for treatment.

“Nayan hit her with something,” Maksim now that Adrastea was exhausted, “and they let go of me to stop her, and I hit them with a pipe so they couldn’t hurt her or Adrastea.  Everyone was shouting, and they kept trying to hurt us so I kept hitting them, and then the guard showed up and everyone said it was our fault!  But it wasn’t!  I just wanted them to stop hurting us, and I was so angry, and the breathing didn’t make it stop-  I just wanted you and Daddy to make them stop.”  Jupiter expected him to start crying again but Maksim’s voice just tapered off into a whimper.  

Jupiter's throat hurt, her breath coming just as fast and hard as her children.  She swallowed, tried to use the breathing she had taught her children, searching her brain for something to say, something to make it better.  There was nothing though, that could make this better.  So she settled for what her mother had said when she was a little girl.

“Thank you for telling me.  You were so, so brave,” Maksim slid back into Jupiter’s arms, limp and exhausted.  Footsteps turned Jupiter’s head to the doorway where Balem stood, a solid wall of tense rage.  His face would have been terrifying to most, to those who didn’t understand it could be used, controlled.  And control it he would.  The Adelmar’s would be ruined before the end of the week.  No need for subtlety this time.  The universe would know to never touch her children.  Jupiter was no Seraphi, entitled delighted to remind her of that, but they would soon be reminded that Balem’s ruthlessness was an inherited trait.  A single nod was all it took, his heavy steps followed by Kiza and Chicanery’s.  The knot in Jupiter’s belly eased, knowing that Balem would be 10 steps ahead of anything that crossed his path.

Adrastea and Maksim looked every bit as exhausted as they felt.  The resignation had been replaced with weariness and dry red eyes.  Jupiter longed to join Balem in his throne room and give the orders herself.  To watch the pieces of the Adelmar’s dynasty fall to pieces around them, feel the satisfaction of knowing that no one would dare touch her children again.  She wanted to teach Adrastea and Maksim that this was what happened to those who threatened an Abrasax.

What she wanted, and what her children needed, were two different things.  Adrastea had finally picked up a cookie to dunk into her milk.  Maksim was slowly relaxing into the heavy limbed feel of exhaustion as he took the deep breaths she’d taught him.  The room wasn’t exactly calm, but the terrified tenseness from before had dissipated with the children’s confession.

Even though all three were tired and emotionally drained Jupiter knew the night wasn’t done.  Those children had said things, passing along words they must have heard somewhere, that hit remarkably close to home.  Entitled had long memories, were highly resistant to change.  The slights about her new harvesting law she expected.  It was the accusations about her relationship with Balem that worried Jupiter more. 

Had the other children’s caretakers really been that perceptive, to see into concerns so deeply buried Jupiter and Balem hadn’t spoken of them since her second millennium?  Or was their some other emotion at play?  If other entitled’s servants could see it then on some level Adrastea and Maksim had to be aware.

It would be easy to put off what needed to be said, to wait until tomorrow.  Then tomorrow would stretch into next week, and next week into next month, until the conversation was forgotten in the endless list of other things that needed done.  So now it would be.  Jupiter gently eased Maksim back into his chair and pushed a cookie closer to him.  He took a bite and slowly chewed while Adrastea finished her milk.

“Before we go to bed I want to talk about something.  It’s something I’ve mentioned before, and I was trying to wait until you were older, but I want to talk about it tonight.”  Two nods and tired faces answered as the cookies were quickly consumed.

“What do you know about Seraphi?” it was a topic Jupiter had avoided bringing up with them since they’d been born.  Much of Jupiter’s knowledge of Seraphi was gleaned from historical sheaves and second hand accounts of her …interesting… parenting skills.  Even Balem was smart enough to not divulge too many details.

“She was Dad’s mother.  And she died a long time ago,” cookie ringed Maksim’s lips as he spoke.

“Aunt Kalique said you’re her recurrence, so you look like her,” Adrastea gave Jupiter the opening she was looking for. 

“You both understand that’s not all a recurrence is?”  More nodding.  Genetics and its quirks were standard teaching by their age, especially with the family business.

“So you understand that I’m not Seraphi?” another set of nods.  The cookie plate was slowly sliding closer to the children, the gold bottom showing through more and more.

Jupiter faltered.  This conversation had popped into her head dozens of times over the years.  How to explain she was Balem’s mother, but not his mother at the same time?  Explaining their relationship would be tricky.  She’d always hoped Maksim would be at least thirteen.  Nine was too young to explain the twisted love Seraphi had engendered in her children, her sons in particular.  It wasn’t something a child his age, or any age really, needed to hear.

Jupiter especially couldn’t tell them about the emotional scarring she’d left behind.  Balem was finally able to admit Seraphi’s shortcomings as a mother even with his deeply entrenched love.  The last thing any of them needed was Balem to lose his cool.  So, truth mixed with glaring vagueness.  That seemed the best way to go.  A deep breath to start, and then-

“Seraphi wasn’t the same kind of mother I am.  She raised your father solely to rule the Abrasax industry and loved him, as his mother, in a completely different way than I love you two.  And I love your father in a completely different way than she did.  He knows extremely well that I am not his mother,” took him awhile to get there, but he did, “Balem loves her _and_ loves me too.  You are our children, nothing more, nothing less.  Children we both love more than anything else in this universe, and are currently doing everything we can to protect.”

“The only people who can ever explain the relationship between your father and I is- well, your father and I.  If you two ever have any questions, or someone says something you don’t understand, I want you to ask me.  You will never get in trouble for asking about your family and I will never lie to you if I can help it.”  That was the best she could offer them.

Maksim was too young to really understand what kind of mother Seraphi had been.  Adrastea, on the other hand, was giving Jupiter a knowing look that caused a worried feel in her stomach.  She could see some very uncomfortable conversations in her future.  How many whispers had she been hearing lately, now that she was getting old enough to actually understand their implications?

With the plate of cookies eaten and the milk consumed Jupiter made the call to give in to their weary expressions and call it a late morning.  She dropped the used dishes into the sink and hustled the children into the hallway.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Balem would be up for the very long foreseeable future, “Do you want to stay in our room tonight?”  Maksim actually managed a small hop.

“Can we make a pillow fort?” Adrastea’s eager face was a welcome surprise.

“Bring all the pillows from your rooms after you get changed,” she whispered conspiratorially.  They ran off to their separate wings with Jupiter’s encouragement as she followed at a more sedate pace. 

By the time she caught up with them in the bedroom the base of the fort had already been laid out with pillows, many of which did not come from their rooms.  The floating bedside tables were apparently going to be used as side supports and they were in the process of trying to figure out how to use the curtains that hung from the arched balcony doorways as the roof.  She gave them some tips on the finer points of constructing an excellent pillow fort and headed into the wardrobe to change her clothes.  Their happy debates on where to put the door followed her.

When Jupiter emerged, wearing much more practical sleepwear, her immediate wish was for a camera.  The bone weariness the children had been fighting since the end of their conversation, and a whole plate of cookies, had finally caught up to them.  Both were passed out on the pillow base, Maksim’s arm still reaching for a blanket piled just out of his reach.

Instead of taking a picture that Adrastea would never forgive her for Jupiter pulled the blanket off the bed and gently maneuvered the children closer to each other.  She covered the three of them and curled up in the half made fort.  Jupiter was asleep before she even remembered her head hitting a pillow.

When Balem found them, well past lunchtime, still sleeping in the wreck that had become their bedroom, he pulled on his own sleepwear and joined them on the floor.  He could tell Jupiter about the unfortunate incidents currently taking place on all the Adelmar’s refineries over dinner.  There was more than enough time.

 

 

So how had it happened?  They were a family, not some disjointed group of people who happened to share a mother.  And their children were breathtaking.

Adrastea would pass in a sweep of glittering black, an otherworldly goddess, convincing former harvest planets to give up their genetic information for the keys to the universe.  Maksim followed, the shining god, with the rules to the game each new acquisition had agreed to play.  It would take decades to properly introduce a planet to the universe.  Decades they willingly spent away from their families and from the luxuries they had grown with.  Harvest planets tended to be suspicious of too much decadence.  At least the smart ones were. 

Jupiter had learned her lessons the hard way, and she was an excellent teacher.  Maksim and Adrastea knew there would be no uprisings, no misunderstandings in their dynasty.  And they were so good at what they did.  Young as they were the universe was already laid at their feet.

They were siblings in every sense of the word.  Yet nothing explained what she had seen in that hallway.  Maksim against the pillar, Adrastea’s fingers pulling at his hair as he pressed his lips to hers in a very un-sibling-like way.  Jupiter had turned away when Maksim’s hand slipped into the open back of Adrastea’s dress.

She wandered Kalique’s alcazar, past those still enjoying the celebration.  Orous had completed another revolution through the galaxy, the fifth since the Great Expansion.  It was the perfect occasion for Kalique to celebrate.  Cerise was beautiful this time of year.

Jupiter somehow made her way to the sitting room of their guest quarters, quietly staring out the window at the celebrating city that stretched to the shore.  She felt strange, hollowed out, like a part of her been removed and replaced with something new.  Not shock.  The denial had definitely worn away on the walk to the room. 

Failure?  Jupiter had long ago admitted to herself that somewhere deep inside she’d desired Maksim so much to prevent this very situation.  Was that so wrong?  To want her children to have the unique bond only siblings could have?  _They certainly have a unique bond now…_   What did it say about her own life, that she loved Balem but didn’t want her children to look to family for that relationship?  Looking back she’d been horribly unfair to him.

It kept playing in her head, no matter how much she didn’t want to see it.  All Jupiter could do was stare out the window and try to figure out where she had failed.

“Jupiter?”

“Kiza!” When had the door opened?  “What are you doing here?”

“A few guests mentioned you wandering like Chicanery after the refinery incident.  Thought I’d look for you,” Jupiter huffed a laugh and sat on the couch.

“I pity his liver.”  Her poor attempt at humor didn’t mask the worried thoughts in her head.

Kiza sat on the opposite end of the couch and waited.  This wasn’t the first time Jupiter hadn’t been able to use her words. 

Jupiter opened her mouth, then snapped it shut.  _It isn’t real if you don’t say it._   But it was real, oh so real, and pressed against that pillar, except now they were probably in a room…  Jupiter buried her face in a glittering throw pillow and groaned.

“I saw them,” she said, muffled through the fabric.

“Gonna need more than that, Jupe,” Jupiter threw the pillow onto the table with a snarl.

“I saw them!  Adrastea and Maksim, in the hallway.  They were…” she gestured vaguely with her hand, then froze, unable to make that motion in relation to her children.  Kiza leaned back and stared for a few moments with a bewildered expression.

“Oh,” she said slowly, “that.”

“Yes, tha…” Jupiter angled herself towards Kiza, “How do you what ‘that’ is?”

Kiza sheepishly picked at a blue flower on her gown.  “Maksim may have come to me.  He wanted advice on how to tell you.”

“What did you say?” Kiza kept picking at the flower.

“Give me time to think about it.” Jupiter’s eyes narrowed.

“How much time?”

Kiza smiled sheepishly, “Six months?”

“Six months?!  Oh my god!  Why would you do that to him?  Why did he even ask you?”

“You get so touchy when people bring up Balem’s relationship with Seraphi.  They weren’t sure how you would react,” Kiza said defensively.

“I get touchy when they say he fathered his own siblings.  It has nothing to do with Seraphi.”  The sibling part was a little true.  The implication that she was Seraphi?  Not so much.

Kiza sighed and rested her head on her elbow, “So what was the business Chicanery and I arranged with those refineries all those years ago?  Hadn’t their children been the cause of that fight?”

“Their parents refused to use the synthetic refining methods.  They were no better than the families that pretended there was no option other than murder for millions of years,” she could hear the haughty lie in her voice.  Jupiter turned the pillow over and ran her fingers across the embedded crystals, “I hear they’re still recovering from that incident.”

“My point,” Kiza continued, “is that you get weird anytime anyone compares your relationship with Balem to his with Seraphi.  Or you have Chicanery and I sabotage a refinery.”

“I do not!” at Kiza’s piercing glare she added, “Get weird.  The refinery thing totally happened.”  A raised eyebrow joined the glare.  She did not get weird!  It was just very uncomfortable being thought of that… way.  So if she pursed her lips when someone brought up how it was wonderful to see the two of ‘them’ together again, or rolled her eyes when another said it was so nice that she had brought back the ‘stable’ Balem (if they only knew) it had nothing to do with being weird.  She was just uncomfortable. 

Making it clear very, very, _very_ , clear to her children that Balem was not having sex with his mother seemed like a very important point to make.  Several times.  With lots of enunciation and pseudo-explicit examples of how that was never going to happen with Maksim and Adrastea.  Ever.

How often had those comments happened in front of Adrastea and Maksim?  More times than Jupiter could remember.  They’d asked about Seraphi, but most of their questions had been superficial.  Jupiter was usually able to hand them a sheave that answered their question in more detail than she would ever be able to.  In fact, there had never been any explicit questions, posed to Jupiter at least, relating to Balem’s relationship with his mother.  

They knew about it.  So who had they asked?  Balem?  Kalique?  Or dear lord, Titus?  The ‘No Parents, No Titus’ rule was still unofficially enforced even though they were well over 300 years old.  The birthday splice incident had given them a very good taste of their uncle’s proclivities.  No, they wouldn’t have asked him.

Making sure her children knew she wasn’t their father’s mother shouldn’t have caused this kind of a rift between them.  She’d never given any overt outward signs of disapproval.  Just made sure they knew the rumors weren’t true.  Jupiter was so careful to keep her comments light in front of them.  Balem could still get shouty when she teased too much.  

How much damage had those explanations caused?  Her protestations that was _not_ Seraphi, that she was not Balem’s mother, that Kalique was their aunt, not their sister.  Jupiter felt a small part of her break.  What had she done to her children?

“Maybe I get a little weird,” Jupiter acquiesced, “How did it happen though?  I made sure they were raised together, that they loved each other.  There is no logical reason that they would ever consider that kind of a relationship!”  Kiza raised that eyebrow at her.

“It’s everywhere, Jupiter.”  Jupiter let out an extremely unladylike snort.

“It is nowhere in this family,” _on second thought_ , “at the current moment.”

“I wasn’t talking about _your_ family,” Kiza gave Jupiter a knowing look.  One she did not understand.  Kiza waited a few moments, but when Jupiter’s bewildered expression remained she continued her explanation.

“Your family is currently in a very small minority when it comes to familial interpersonal relationships.  You definitely discouraged them feeling that way towards _you_ specifically, but no one ever told them any other type of relationship was taboo.”

Jupiter stared, and then burst, “So you’re saying that because I spent so much time making sure my children didn’t want to have sex with me that I missed them having sex each other?”  Kiza shrugged.

“Pretty much.”

“What family has to deal with this shit?”

“The one you decided to stay involved with.”

“I seem to recall you encouraged the ‘staying involved’ part.” 

“Oh no, I just suggested that you wanted to have sex.  You jumped straight to Balem with no help from me,” Kiza narrowed her eyes, “Straight to his throne room if I remember correctly.”  Kiza ducked the pillow Jupiter threw at her and laughed.  Jupiter’s offended look lasted barely a second before she joined Kiza’s giggles.

They briefly quieted when the door opened only to start again when they realized it was Balem.  He raised an eyebrow at their red, smiling faces and toed his shoes off.  Kiza stood, still laughing quietly, and brushed her gown’s flowers back into place.

“I should go,” she leaned down to hug Jupiter, “Think about what I said.”

“I will.  Goodnight.” Kiza walked past Balem on her way to the door.  “Thank you!” Jupiter quickly added.  Kiza gave Balem a mock salute on her way out of the room and slipped back into the celebration.  Jupiter laid her head in Balem’s lap as he took Kiza’s vacated seat.

“How long have you known about them?” Balem ran his fingers up and down her arm, the caress calming her tight muscles.

“Since they returned from their Nostro assignment.”  Good.  That was around the time Maksim had approached Kiza.  Jupiter watched the moonlight fill the arches of the ceiling, scenarios with her children racing through her brain.

“What if it doesn’t work?” she blurted out.  The crease between Balem’s eyes deepened.

“In what way?”

“What if they break up?  Or one of them falls in love with someone else?”  Balem’s fingers stopped and rested on her shoulder.

“It won’t matter.”

“How can you say that?  They’ll stop speaking, stop wanting to work together!  _They won’t want to come home at the same time_.”  No.  Jupiter wouldn’t be able to survive having a family like Balem’s.  Not after she’d worked so hard to build a new one.

“They will find new partners.  And they will always come home,” His fingers resumed their slow caress on her arm.

“You don’t _know_ that,” he looked down at her face and cupped her cheek, turning her gaze to his.

“They will remember where they were safe,” Balem said.  Jupiter finally met his gaze, “They will remember those that have always loved them, even when others fade.  Our children know where they will be perfectly happy.  Even if they no longer desire each other.  They will always come home.”  Jupiter sucked in breaths through a tightening throat, blinking at the wetness in her eyes.

“Yes,” her voice, hoarse with tears, barely made a sound, “They will.”  It only took him 300 years to let her know that he’d understood her that night in their bed.  She closed her eyes and waited for the tears to pass, for her breathing to ease.  Her lips lifted into a grin.

“At least they work together.  Long term relationships suck,” Balem’s fingers slipped to the strap of her dress as he tested her teasing mood.

“Yes, they are a hindrance.”  It was slowly sliding over her shoulder.  A sliver of anticipation shot to Jupiter’s belly.

“Did you enjoy the celebration?” she teased softly.  Balem relaxed into the couch, let his perfect posture slip, and smiled.  The party would pale in comparison to this.

“Yes.  Your suggestion to hold the liquor until the second half of the evening will save Titus from another annulled marriage.”  His fingers went to work on the other strap.  Goosebumps tightened her skin as Jupiter played the game, “He might learn something this time.” 

Fingers slipped under the strap as it slid down her shoulder.  Jupiter’s shoes fell under the table as she kicked them off to stand up.  The dress pooled to the floor in a shimmering pile, courtesy of Balem’s work.  His fingers reached for her nude form, glowing white in the light from the moons, but she turned to the bedroom, pulling pins from her hair as she went.

“Coming?” she tossed over her shoulder with a teasing grin.  The soft sound of his feet followed her.  He was bare to the waist when Jupiter reached the bed, golden collar gleaming, pants unbuttoned.  The night bleached his skin, freckles standing out against the moonlight.  She chewed her lip, placing a hand on his chest when he stopped at the foot of the bed.

Jupiter gently placed one finger at the top of his collar.  Balem slid to his knees in front of her as she pressed her fingers to it, long years of practice releasing the hidden clasps.  His hands slid up the back of her thighs to cradle her hips as he pressed a kiss to her stomach, tongue quickly darting into her navel, earning a small gasp in reward.  The ache between her thighs throbbed sharply at the sound of his quick breathing when the pieces of the collar fell from Jupiter’s hands to the floor.

One hand lightly rested against his throat, her thumb sliding upwards.  Balem’s head fell back, lips falling open as Jupiter pressed a gentle kiss to the soft skin under his ear.  His breath hitched at her whisper.

“Have you been a good boy?”

 

 

Jupiter admired the bruises, accented by scratches, on her hips and thighs.  She would heal them, but not today.  The lingering ache would bring her back to last night and help her deal with the inevitable clean-up of whatever Titus had wrought at the celebration.  Her fingers traveled up her stomach, almost all traces gone of the two children she had borne, and pulled the towel from her wet hair.  Comfortable pants and a loose shirt replaced the finery from last night.  Jupiter quietly passed a still sleeping Balem, pausing to kiss his cheek, and headed to breakfast.

Adrastea and Maksim were already lounging in the dining room when Jupiter arrived.  Their bare feet, touching under the table, quickly separated.  Jupiter paused, took a deep breath, and shook her head.  _You can do this._   A splice brought Jupiter her breakfast while a sim pushed her chair in for her.  She waited until both had left.

“I know I’ve made it very clear I am not Seraphi,” Jupiter announced.  Food stopped halfway to mouths, side-eyed glances shared between the siblings.  “The actions of her life seriously damaged mine when I was made aware of the larger universe.”  Adrastea folded her hands in her lap.  Maksim started taking deep drinks of his coffee.

“She had done horrible things to the people I grew to love,” Balem, Kalique, sometimes Titus depending on the year, “and played a large part in perpetuating a system that I’ve fought against my whole life,” was still fighting.

“I do get upset when I’m compared to her.  Mostly because much of my first two millennia was spent proving I _wasn’t_ her.”  Her first public appearances as an entitled had been _awful._   “So when someone assumes that I have her attributes I get a little…” not weird, “testy.”

“But I will never let my dislike of Seraphi, or her choice of partner, interfere with my family.  You two are everything I ever wanted.  Who you choose to be with will never make me feel otherwise.”  Silence followed.  For want of something to do Jupiter took a large bite of her fruit and slowly chewed.

Maksim was the first to process her speech, “So, you know?”

“Yes.”

Adrastea chimed in, “And you’re okay with it?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve just always been really clear that it’s not like that between you and Dad,” Maksim said.  Jupiter smiled and remembered something from long ago, when she understood so much but really nothing at all.

“We live a long time, Maksim.  After a while the only people who can understand that weight are those closest to us.”  The reasoning that Balem had spoken to her in her early centuries had seemed mad at the time.  In light of recent events it seemed extremely applicable.  It certainly explained her current lifestyle.

“That’s what Dad said when I told him,” Adrastea said fondly.  Jupiter grinned and cut into her waffle.

“He has good ideas from time to time,” she agreed.

Maksim poured himself another cup of coffee. “Terrible fashion sense though.”  Adrastea growled.

“There is nothing wrong with black!”

**Author's Note:**

> Due to the serious dearth of information outside of the bubble Jupiter saw in the movie I did what I could with names. I would give my left ovary for an art book....
> 
> Adrastea is named after one of Jupiter's moons, which is also the Roman God of War. 'Cause Balem would be totally up for that. Maksim is the closest I thought Balem would let Jupiter get to naming him after her father, and since I couldn't really find a good basis for where Balem's name even came from (unlike Kalique and Titus), I went with an 'Earth' name.
> 
> I originally meant for the children to play a bigger part but it quickly became more about Jupiter's journey and personal realizations. It was also only supposed to be one section. So yeah...
> 
> I slipped some weird personal headcanons into the story. If anything was confusing please let me know in the comments. I'll try to clarify it. Thanks for reading!


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